


SETI (rhymes with spaghetti)

by trekmemes (ProblematicPitch)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Contact, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Oneshot, SETI - Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProblematicPitch/pseuds/trekmemes
Summary: One’s a Starfleet officer. One’s a member of an alien race whom Starfleet is attempting to make first contact with.Professor Jim Kirk is head of the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence - Communications Division. When Dr. Uhura picks up a foreign signal from space, they all think it's just radio static. Until it isn't.





	SETI (rhymes with spaghetti)

“Jim, get over here, quick!” Uhura shrieked, spinning her swivel chair around so quickly she nearly crashed into the desk behind her.

Jim shook himself awake from his dozing. “Wha— what 's it. Missile crisis? Terror from above?” He took a swig from his cold cup of coffee and grimaced. Nyota’s eyes were open wide, however, and she gestured excitedly at her ancient monitor.

“You have to come take a look at this! It’s— it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen!” Jim sighed and rolled his chair over to her desk. After a moment of scanning over the data his jaw dropped open. He clicked through page after page of figures, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“That— that’s just not possible... the science doesn’t check out! I mean the physics alone would—” he floundered. “Where did you get this from?”

She cleared her throat and brought up a file of a nearby star system. “We’ve been periodically receiving an unusual radio transmission from this cluster—” she tapped the screen with a perfectly manicured fingernail— “and I’ve been tuning into it since then to try and clarify it. I thought maybe a nebula, a new star cluster forming. Then just three minutes ago I registered the exact same signal, only now it’s not our little ‘ping,’ it's more like a massive explosion of data.” She pulled up the waveform data and corrected it for scale, and sure enough they looked eerily similar.

“That’s bizarre. But it doesn’t really prove anything, does it?”

“Jim. Look at the coordinates of the second dataset.” She folded her arms and waited expectantly.

“That. That’s in orbit. Around Earth.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Holy shit.” He kicked the chair of their college intern, Chekov, who was fast asleep. “Wake the hell up!”

Chekov groaned and buried his face in the crook of his arm. “Vat is it. I don’t get paid enough for zis.”

Jim scrambled back to his desk and began shuffling through his enormous textbooks, dropping paper files and memos everywhere. “It’s not here, I can’t find it. There’s not a major asteroid event for the next several months. NOTHING of this size is supposed to be anywhere near our planet, in, well,” he gasped, out of breath.

“We should call somebody,” Uhura reminded him calmly.

“We should _call_ somebody,” Kirk repeated blankly, trying to process the words. “Call somebody! You,” he shouted, pointing at Chekov, “call somebody!”

“Aye aye, keptin,” he repeated sarcastically, readying his cellphone. “Who am I supposed to be calling anyvay.”

He racked his brains. “Uhh, Scotty, call Scott. He’ll think of something. Then call the director.” He turned back to Uhura. “Can we get a visual on... whatever this thing is? Commandeer somebody’s satellite? Radio the ISS?”

Scotty was on speakerphone complaining to the whole department. “Do yeh daft idiots realize what time it is? It’s three in the damn—”

“Hey, Jim? I don’t think we’re going to need to beg for a visual.” The ancient telemetry machine in the corner was booting up, blinking green. Suddenly, every computer in the lab powered on and began downloading a program in some sort of unintelligible code, at lighting speed.

He turned to her. “Uhura. I think we’re under attack.” He stood stock-still, shaking slightly. “What is that language? Do you recognize it?”

Chekov was now on the phone with the director, voice trembling. “Yes sir. I don’t know how to describe it, sir. Ze object is in orbit around ze Earth. No, zis is not like ze last time! It is not a prank, sir, I svear on my—”

The defunct projector turned on by itself, its fans whirring frantically as it began showing a fuzzy image on the wall of the lab. Uhura tapped at her keyboard, trying to clear up the signal.

Every speaker, from the tiny ones housed in the computers to the massive ones lining the walls, charged and began blasting a wall of garbled sound. The three scientists dropped to their knees, covering their ears from the pain. “Someone— turn— that— off,” Kirk instructed through gritted teeth. Chekov crawled to the control center and set all of the audio levels to minimum. The video feed began to resolve itself from colorful static. Chekov’s cellphone clattered to the ground as he stared in open-mouthed astonishment.

“Oh my God,” Kirk breathed.

“...is that...” Uhura added, taking off her glasses so she could see better at a distance.

“...an alien?” Chekov finished, voice hushed in awe.

Kirk felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. It— the creature— the alien thing— the _being_ — looked humanoid. Two eyes, two ears, a mouth and nose, apparently bipedal, clad in some sort of flowing garment like a silk robe or shawl. The sceptic in him wanted to dismiss it all as an elaborate hoax. The implications were too terrifying for him to acknowledge. But the scientist in him was observing them carefully. Something about their facial proportions struck him as entirely otherworldly. Sharp, dramatically pointed eyebrows jutted down from angular brows. Their ears curved up to elegant points. On the cheeks and lips of those with pale skin, there were traces of- was that green? Despite the fact that a few of them seemed to be showing signs of age, with deep creases framing their mouths and grey hair, their foreheads and the skin around their eyes was as smooth as if it had never been used to laugh, or cry, or smile.

The mouth of their leader was moving without sound, as Chekov had just slammed the mute button. “It looks... like they’re trying to communicate with us,” the young student said blankly.

“Uhura, can you patch that audio feed through my desktop?”

“I’m on it.” She tapped a few buttons on her keyboard. “Looks like the proper software was already included in whatever files they sent over. I’m trying to run it through a security protocol, but even if it did contain something dangerous, this tech is so superior to ours that I doubt I could detect it. I’ve yet to even figure out what kind of language this is,” she said, grimacing at the monitor.

“I’m... I’m going to try and listen in on this,” Kirk said, glancing at his coworkers, eyes pleading _wish me luck_. They each settled in to their decades—old, government issued clunky grey headphones.

 _People of Earth_ , the voice began, in clear, calm, unaccented American English. _We come to you in peace, as representatives of the United Federation of Planets_.

Chekov ripped off his headphones in terror. “How does zat— zat _thing_ know how to speak perfect Russian?”

“Stop interrupting, you fool,” Uhura said sharply. “They must have some sort of universal language translator. My version is in Swahili.”

Kirk continued listening intently, captivated by the scene before him. _I am Captain Spock, of the United Star Ship Intrepid. It has come to our attention that humanity has reached the brink of autonomous space travel, while still wielding weapons capable of destroying entire planets. Logic dictates that we should attempt to reason with you. Our observations of you have yielded mixed signals, but there is evidence that you are open to negotiation. We wish to speak to your planet’s leaders, with the intent of reaching a mutually favorable outcome._

Kirk turned to his counterpart. “Uhura, can they hear us, too? Is there any way we can contact them?”

She tilted her head to one side, tapping her pen against the bridge of her nose in deep thought. “We have a system of microphones in here. I could borrow some of the bandwidth of the station’s most powerful satellite. That might give us enough power to reach their sensors. But it’s risky, might be breaking a few international laws, and it’s definitely against protocol.”

“Given the circumstances, I don’t think we have time for protocol.”

“Agreed.” She grinned deviously. “This will take me a minute, so take a second to consider what you’re going to say to the first confirmed alien race to ever contacted Earth.”

“...that we know of,” Kirk muttered under his breath.

Chekov slumped across his keyboard in despair. “I’m definitely not getting paid enough for zis.”

“There,” said Uhura with some finality. “The mic’s all yours, Chief.” She winked at Jim.

He brought the headset microphone up to his lips. “H-hello up there?”

The alien captain— or whatever he might be— turned and stared directly at the camera they were transmitting from. Though Jim knew he couldn’t actually see them, the effect was still eerie. “Greetings. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking.”

“This is, uh,” he stammered, then look a long breath and drew himself up as confidently as possible. “This is Jim. Uh, James T. Kirk.” He winced.

“Which organization do you represent, Mr. Kirk?” the alien asked him levelly, without a hint of annoyance.

“We’re from NASA’s Department for Astrobiology and SETI. That— I mean NASA is the National Aeronautics and Space Administration of the United States of America,” he finished lamely.

“Our computers are having trouble recognizing your word ‘setty.’”

“The, uh, search for extra-terrestrial intelligence,” he squeaked.

“How fitting,” said their captain gravely. “You have found us, Mr. Kirk.”

Chekov’s phone began buzzing from under the table where it had fallen. He fumbled for it and put it on speakerphone, then held it out toward Jim, cringing. The voice of NASA’s Director Pike rang out. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE THIS TIME, JIM? THE GOD DAMNED PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES IS ON THE PHONE WITH ME RIGHT NOW! AND SHE WANTS TO KNOW WHY AN UNIDENTIFIED ARMED OBJECT IS IN ORBIT AROUND OUR GOD-DAMNED-PLANET!”

“Ve are so fired,” Chekov groaned.

\----------

Jim was being walked down the hallway by a contingent of armed guards. “I don’t understand! I haven’t done anything wrong,” he protested. They remained silent and stone-faced.

The party traveled by elevator deep into the most recessed sub-basement, past locked door after locked door marked with the highest levels of security clearance. He knew some of the alien contingent had already made their way to the planet’s surface, via some sort of advanced technology a flabbergasted Montgomery Scott could only describe as ‘beaming’ (“There came a ray of light, like glittering particles straight from the sun. Then some sort o' person, made flesh, materialized from that energy. From pure photons! I cannae make head nor tails of it”). Where they had ended up, he had been assured, was a matter of ‘utmost national and _inter_ national security’ with the fairly straightforward subtext that if he breathed a word of it to anyone, it would be the last thing he ever did.

Director Pike himself materialized from around the corner, wearing no less than fifteen security badges around his neck, and appeared to be juggling at least three different cell phones. “They’ll speak only to you,” he growled in Kirk’s general direction. “Imagine, one high ranking staff member after another sent in there only to be turned away. Me! The director of NASA! Being ordered around by some third-rate cavalryman from some star system or other! We’d detain them, but we can’t. They each appear to be carrying some sort of high-powered laser weapon and refuse to disarm until they 'can be assured that our intentions are peaceful,’” he huffed.

Pavel and Nyota were waiting there for him, too. Chekov’s eyes were wider than a lost lamb’s; he looked close to fainting. Uhura was trying to stay calm and serious, but Jim recognized a glint of pride in her expression.

“Well, go on in, son,” the director gestured at the door in front of them. It was opened by one of the guards, while the others flanked the small group as they entered.

The room was a windowless underground chamber the size of an aircraft hangar. Kirk couldn’t begin to guess how far down they were, but he felt the pressure of it pushing down on him. White-clad scientists scurried here and there, examining the newcomers’ equipment. Jim could see three of the alien figures being swarmed by the medical team, which was headed up by the talented yet surly physician, McCoy.

“What’s the prognosis, Doctor?” Pike asked, as he listened to a conversation on one phone while texting on another.

“⇇⇇↳⧪⦽⤰⟱,” one of the aliens said, in a tone that could have meant absolutely anything at all.

“I wouldn’t care whether you had triple-disinfected under UV light or simply taken a dust bath! It means absolutely the same to me. We didn’t even have proof that alien organisms existed, and now you expect me to take you at your word? There could be viruses, bacteria, some new class of organism or parasite we’ve never even heard of before, and I will NOT be the doctor responsible for letting a space plague destroy the entire Earth!”

“I see your point, doctor, but she may be right,” said Pike, gesturing at the alien that had just made a series of unintelligible noises. “They seem to be much more experienced at this than we are, and I’d like to get this situation over with as soon as possible.”

Jim glanced up to see the captain of the alien crew he had spoken to before. The dark eyes met his own, and he found himself tongue-tied. The captain held something out to him, which he took cautiously. It was a tiny earpiece that must contain the translator.

Thus outfitted, he returned the captain’s intense gaze. “Captain Spock?” he asked with faint hesitation.

“You must be Mr. Kirk,” the alien said, holding up his hand in a strange gesture, which Jim assumed must be a greeting. He tried to copy it, but only made his hand cramp in the process.

“That’s me,” he smiled awkwardly. “I mean, right now it’s Professor Kirk. And I’m a doctor. I mean, not a doctor like him,” he said, glancing at McCoy, who had his arms crossed and was glaring at everyone in the vicinity. “I have a PhD.”

“Ah, a man of science,” said Captain Spock with imperturbable calm. “I consider myself a scientist as well.”

“Yep, that’s me, Mister Scientific,” Jim said with a nervous chuckle. “It’s great to finally meet you. Captain. In person, I mean.” He offered his hand for a familiar handshake.

Spock’s cool hand gently enfolded Jim’s. “The honor is all mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted Feb. 14th, 2018 on my Tumblr blog [@trekmemes](https://trekmemes.tumblr.com/post/170860437349/spirk-for-the-star-trek-otp-prompt-thing-with). Thanks to @wintergreen556 for the prompt!
> 
> Prompts list by [@ezrisdax](https://trekmemes.tumblr.com/post/170742426699/ezrisdax-star-trek-otp-prompts-cause-im-bored).


End file.
